


Nightmare

by Emptynarration



Series: I had a dream [2]
Category: Youtube RPF, Youtube egos, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Twins, Anger, Angry Author, Descent into Madness, Family Reunions, Hallucinations, Mentions of Drowning, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Reunions, Revenge, Self-Harm, Separations, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, The Void, Vomiting, change of powers, inside the void, zalgo - Freeform, zalgo text
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emptynarration/pseuds/Emptynarration
Summary: Author had been in the void for so long.He wasn't sure how long. Days? Weeks? Months?Perhaps even years?He just wants to see Host again.Hatred and the need for revenge on Dark fill him, consume him, change him.No one can take years of total isolation without being changed.
Series: I had a dream [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618699
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

What time was it?

How much time had already passed?

How long has it been?

Author was curled up, hands in his hair, pulling and tugging. He wasn’t sure how long he’s been in the void. He wasn’t aging here, he didn’t have any needs a human had, and he only “slept” because he hoped to pass more time, pass time quicker, and because he was used to sleeping.   
He missed Host. God did he miss him. He didn’t miss anything as much as he missed his twin, his poor little brother, all alone out there in the world now. He was surrounded by all those other people, those  _ egos _ , and Author was here. Alone. Stuck. Away from all human contact, away from everyone and anyone. 

How he  _ hated _ Dark. Pushing him here into this void, empty of anything, thinking he’d become dangerous. He’d been nothing but a  _ child _ . One couldn’t expect someone barely of age to know what was right and wrong, when they spend so long on their own, so many years neglected, and then so many years left to their own devices.   
Dark had never tried to help them. He had never tried to help them with their powers. All he did was  _ judge _ , was to punish them for things they were still discovering, still learning about. All Dark seemed to be able to do was bitch about things, and not try and actually help.

Distressed sounds reached Author’s ears, and while he rationally knew it was just himself he heard, he was still startled. He curled up tighter, breathing harsh as he tried to keep his panic down. He hated this. How often did he have panic attacks since he was in here? How many hallucinations did he have since he was in the void? How often did he scream, did he cry, did he hurt himself just to be able to feel and hear something?   
His breaths were fast, he was panicking, he was shaking and gasping for air, he was rocking where he was curled up on the “ground”, he couldn’t properly think as he he panicked over nothing once more.

He had no clue how long it lasted. He was crying, he was shaking, he was gasping for breath. But, he was calming down slowly, and he was getting his breath back slowly, and he could think rationally again.   
His scalp hurt, and he carefully let go of his hair. Fuck it hurt, but it wasn’t surprising. He was used to hurting himself in his attacks, and at least this time there was no blood. He couldn’t really clean himself up here after all, but he managed, somehow.   
Taking deep breaths, Author slowly uncurled. His limbs hurt, and he was guessing that he had been in this position for a longer time. He was aching, but he would hopefully feel better again soon. He just had to move a little.

_ “Authy!” _ , a voice was calling, and Author tensed, before growling.   
“Shut up!”, he called back, carefully standing up.   
_ “Authy! I’m scared..” _ , it was the voice of Host, young sweet Host, and Author couldn’t handle it.   
“You’re not real!”, he screamed, pressing his hands on his ears, even though it didn’t help in the slightest.   
_ “You promised you’d never leave me… where are you?” _   
Author was breathing heavily, shaking his head, turning away from the voice even though it was everywhere around him.   
“Leave me alone! You’re not here I’m alone I’m alone I’m alone.”, Author didn’t want to keep replying, but he felt like he had to, because it was  _ his brother _ , and how could he just ignore his baby brother? He needed him, Host needed him, and Author needed Host as well.   
_ “Authy!” _ , Host -the hallucination- cried out, before finally falling silent. Author was close to sobbing again, but he was holding back, he was trying his hardest to just ignore these things he’s heard, he’s been hearing so much. 

Author gasped for breath until he was calm again, rubbing his eyes until his eyes were dry again. He stood up straight, shaking his head and his hands. He hated this. He hated the void. Why did he have to be here?   
He had tried to write with his blood, once. He couldn’t hurt himself worse than puncture his skin with his nails, or scratch himself open, so he never really had enough blood to truly  _ try _ and write with his blood, but he had fully intended to try.   
Once he felt calm again, he ran his hand through his hair repeatedly. He started to walk, just in a big circle, mostly because he knew there was nothing to find, nothing to see, and just walking straight would drive him  _ more _ mad, because he was walking  _ forward _ but he wasn’t  _ getting anywhere _ . So a circle was better, even if he had absolutely  _ no _ indicator of where he was and if he actually walked in a circle.

“I’m alone I’m alone I’m alone I’m alone I’m alone…”, Author was mumbling to himself, over and over, hand running through his hair near frantically. He could  _ feel _ someone watching him, staring at him, and he pointedly kept his gaze fixed on the ground, so that he wouldn’t look around in a frenzy to see who was watching him and where they were.   
A startled cry left him when there was suddenly an eye on the ground staring up at him, and Author stumbled backwards, forced to look up now. His breathing hitched as millions of eyes were just  _ staring _ , and he fell to his knees, pressing his hands to his eyes.   
“I know this isn’t real! I know it’s not real! I’m hallucinating I know I am why  _ won’t it go away?” _ , his voice broke, and he shook, breaths deep but shaky. He was panicking  _ again _ , and he had no clue how long he had been walking. Minutes? Hours? Days?

The feeling of being watched didn’t leave, it felt like an eternity. Author was shaking violently, gasping but managing to breathe. When the thousand gazes finally left Author, he was utterly exhausted. Laying down, Author closed his eyes. He was so  _ tired _ . He was mentally exhausted, so much happened again, as it always did, and he felt the void wrap around him, it felt like when he had been pulled into here, and he wondered how long ago that had been. How many months had he been here? How long ago had it been since he’s seen Host?   
“I just wanna see him again..”, Author mumbled to himself. He just wanted to be back with Host. He’s always been with him. It had been their promise, to always be there for the other. But they’d been forcefully separated, and Author couldn’t be there for Host, and Host couldn’t be there for Author.

Every waking moment felt like the the last. Author walked around, lost in time, often just talking with himself. Sometimes, he’d have conversations to some imaginary person, just to finally be talking, have someone to talk to, even if it was just himself he was talking with, in the end. He had panic attacks a lot, as often as he had hallucinations at the very least. With no measurements of time, he had no clue how long he did anything.   
How long was he walking around? How long was he having this panic attack? How long did he sleep? How long did these hallucinations last? He had no clue, he never knew, and it was making him feel worse and worse.

_ “It’s not fair.” _ , Author was mumbling to himself. One hand running through his hair over and over, the other gripping the front of his shirt.   
“It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”, he giggled, shaking his head, but unable to stop grinning. His hand’s movements were near erratic as it ran through his hair.   
_ “It’s not fair, is it?” _ , he giggled, he giggled until he was breathless, grip on his shirt turning his knuckles white.    
_ “Death does not mean the same thing here.” _ , he hummed, grin wide, so wide his cheeks hurt. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t he stop?

_ “Just… let me in.” _ , he chuckled, breathless, finally relaxing his grip on his shirt. He was so exhausted. He was so  _ tired _ . He just wanted to finally rest, was that so much to ask for? Just to rest. Just to see Host again. Just to be out of this damn void again.   
He settled on the ground, laying down, curling up. He was so tired. 

He felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know why, it made no sense, since he couldn’t get sick here. He didn’t need to eat, he didn’t need to drink, he technically didn’t even have to sleep. But still, he somehow felt sick. He was nauseous, even while sitting he felt dizzy, and he didn’t know what was happening.   
He could feel bile rising in his throat, and he was quick to keel over, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other bracing himself on the ground, throwing up. It burnt his throat, it tasted vile, and dripped from his lips more like goo than liquid. It made Author cough and retch, watching the black  _ slime _ drip from his mouth.   
He was confused, he felt terrible, and another wave of nausea washed over him, making him retch once more, coughing up more black slime to fall to the ground in thick glops. It was disgusting, and Author shuddered.

Author was breathing heavily, sitting back, wiping his mouth. He didn’t understand, he felt disgusting, was he hallucinating again? His breaths were wheezing, and his head was spinning. He felt so  _ dizzy _ . He didn’t understand. What was wrong with him? He’s spent so much time in the void, maybe it was killing him? How long had it been?   
He sat down, unable to see or smell the goo he threw up, but  _ knowing _ it was there. His head was swimming, and he wanted to pass out. He laid down, legs propped up, one hand resting on his belly as he just breathed.   
Something was wrong. With him? With the void?   
His skin was tingling. He groaned, laying his other arm over his eyes. He didn’t feel good. He felt like the ground was as sticky as the goo that came out of him, and like he was sinking into quicksand. Gooey quicksand. He found he didn’t care, letting the void wrap around him in slimey tendrils, pulling him down, sinking.   
It felt like he was in water. Dense water, but water. Not really like goo. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not. He wasn’t sure if he still had a body or not. He couldn’t see, there was nothing to hear, or to feel. He wasn’t sure if he felt because he felt, or because he imagined what it’d feel like.

Maybe this was it. Maybe it would finally be over now. Maybe he was finally coming to an end in this endless void, not having seen a person in what feels like a lifetime.   
He wondered how old Host was now. How old he was supposed to be now. How many years might have passed since he was put here. Had Host changed a lot? He wondered if Host still thought about him. They were twins. They had had their together place. They’ve always been together, until Dark tore them apart.   
He wanted to see him again. Host. His twin. He just wanted to see his brother again, was that too much to ask for? He supposed so.

He’s never been able to reach the together place here in the void. But was he still there? He wasn’t sure, he felt like he was drowning, floating in water, suspended. Not like he was falling, not like he was moving. Not moving more than the gentle rocking of a lake. He felt completely cut off from everything, from the void, from  _ himself _ .

_ It’s not fair, is it? _

Author breathed. He was quiet, listening to the void. It held a story, characters, and the smell of rotting flesh, the feeling of regret, of anger and hatred, and the need for revenge.

_ Death does not mean the same thing here. _

He wanted to go back to Host. He wanted to be back with his brother. How was he now? How much had he grown in the time Author was gone? Perhaps Host was the big brother now, and Author the one in need of help. The little brother, the one who needed to be protected.   
It would be a big change. But Author had changed a lot. He’d gone through  _ so much _ , yet so  _ little _ . He had had so many hallucinations, so many panic attacks, had talked so much to himself and imaginary people he wasn’t sure what was even real anymore.

_ Just… let me in. _

He hated Dark. He hated him, more than anything, and he wanted to make him pay for banishing him into the void like he had. He wanted to throw him into this total isolation, into this cold darkness, and suffer on his own for so long that he didn’t know how long it actually was.   
Anger and rage filled him, and he wasn’t certain if all of these feelings were his own or not. This place, this void, it was full of these hateful feelings, and this rotting stench that he couldn’t smell, but knew was filling this place.    
He hated Dark. He hated all of those other egos that did  _ nothing _ . How he had liked Wilford, once. Chaotic, wild, murderous, always open for an adventure. He had always been supporting the two of them. But he had done  _ nothing _ to help them either. He knew what Dark did. He  _ must _ have known. He would’ve known once Author was gone at the very least.   
All Author held towards these egos was anger now. How was Host without him? What did he have to go through all on his own, without anyone there he trusted and could help?

He felt the void wrap around him, hold him tightly in this floating space he was in. The tendrils holding him, squeezing, pulling him apart. It hurt, it burnt, he felt like he was burning alive in cold fire. Shadows and water were filling him, and he struggled, he pulled against it and tried to not breathe it in anymore.   
But it was filling him completely, until he ceased his struggles, and he let it. He let it, feeling it burn his insides, fueling his anger. There wasn’t much to anything he wanted more than to get his revenge on Dark, and finally see Host again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making this two chapters because a chapter break feels right at this point  
> Also tags are very hard so if you find anything to tag I haven't yet do tell  
> I hope y'all feel bad for Author, because he deserves all the love


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a lot of self-harm and suicide talk and past and trying in the beginning  
> But no one will die!!

He didn’t want to do this anymore.

He wanted his brother back, he wanted Author back with him. He had no clue how he was. If he was still alive. Host had been so lucky to never have been inside of the void, no matter how often he wished to, just to be able to see his brother again.  
It’s been… so long now. Host kept track of it, of every birthday he spend alone, without his twin. Kept track of the day Dark had separated the two of them. It’s been years now. So much time. So many new people had entered this house, this _manor_ , and Host didn’t like any of them. He couldn’t bring himself to. He just wanted _Author_ .  
But he couldn’t have him. He was alone, feeling like an outsider. Ever since Author was gone, Host felt like a piece of himself was missing. Maybe it was because he had _never_ been away from Author for so long. Maybe because he always had had the ability to go to their together place and see him, hear him, feel him.

He just couldn’t take it anymore. He hadn’t been able in _so long_. 

If Author was dead, he wanted to be with him. If Author would never be with him again, he didn’t want to be alive to witness that. He knew Dark wouldn’t throw him into the void. He was too _useful_ to the man. Forced to write down his visions, preferably as soon as they happened, give them to him for his own use.  
Host hated him. He hated him more than anything. But he couldn’t _do_ anything. Because Dark _baited_ him. “Do you not want to see your brother again?” “He’s still alive, and I’ll keep it that way if you obey.” “You’ll see him again if you _behave_ .”.  
Host was sick of it. Sick of being a _tool_ , of being nothing but some _thing_ . He was sick of Dark’s empty promises, being told he could see his twin again. It’s been _years_ , and nothing ever changed.

He tried to escape once. Finding some rope in this household was easy enough, and he could manipulate his room well enough to get the job done. Good thing he knew how to tie a good knot.  
He still had a scar from it. It was the reason he wore his button ups pretty much completely buttoned up, always trying to hide his neck. The stupid doctor had barely left him any room to breathe for months, but at last he had left him in peace again.  
Host just didn’t want to be without his brother. Somehow, everyone seemed to not understand that. He wasn’t a part of this “family”, as the others liked to call this madness. He disliked pretty much everyone here, though most he was actually indifferent to. Most didn’t know him, how he had gotten here, didn’t know about _his twin_ . It infuriated Host, he hated how his brother was just _erased_ . But he refused to forget about him, and he tried, he tried over and over, to get him _back_. But Dark’s void wasn’t anything Host could touch with his powers.

It was all so very _tiring_. All he wanted was Author, but he would never get him back. It’s been years. He had no guarantee Author was still alive. He didn’t want to live without his brother, he didn’t want to live here with these people, he didn’t want to live as Dark’s tool. Maybe this time no one would get here. He did lock the door, it was the middle of the night. And no one was suspicious of him and what he did alone.

The cutting didn’t hurt. He watched the blood bubble up, quickly running down his skin. He kept cutting his skin open, the little blade stained red, dark skin hidden beneath the blood running down it. It didn’t hurt, for a while. When he laid down the razorblade, it stung a little. He poked the surrounding skin, eliciting a bit of pain. But, all in all, it didn’t really hurt.  
He leaned back, taking a deep breath. Blood was staining his bandages, covering his eyes, and was now soaking slowly into his coat, where his arms laid on his lap. It hurt far less than he thought it would. Though he also had thought hanging himself would’ve been less painful than it was, so it evened out.

He let his narrations just float through his head, not listening to them. 

Darkness was creeping into the room, shadows growing deeper. They were gathering above the ground like fog, thick and cold. Whisping and swirling like there was a breeze, the temperature dropping inside the room. Host didn’t think much of it, if only because he was losing blood, and getting cold was to be expected.

The darkness balled into itself, creating a dense mass on the ground, as the room was plunged into total darkness. Finally, Host was aware of something happening. It felt cold. It felt _empty_ . It felt just like _the void_ . His breathing hitched, and he pressed himself into the corner of his bed. If this was Dark doing something, he didn’t want to know. His narrations didn’t pick up on what was happening, or rather, what _would_ happen. They only acted as his sight, and he felt his blood run down his arms further, as his sleeves slid down over them, not getting red spots.  
Host could do literally nothing but watch and _wait_ . As tendrils of the void wrapped over one another, a mass of squirming tentacles in a way. It was terrifying, it was strange, and Host felt sick. He wasn’t sure if it was the void in his room, or if it was because he was losing so much blood. He felt nauseous, and dizzy, but he was clinging to his narrations so he knew what was happening.  
It looked… it looked like a body. Squirming, moving, unable to keep form, but clinging to it. A vague human body shape, moving from the floor, before it stood. Host was trembling, he was _scared_ , because his powers weren’t telling him future possibilities, and he was too scared to try and speak and help himself.

The shape was getting just more certain, but Host couldn’t focus on it. Watching as it looked around, its gaze focusing on him. It stepped closer, and Host’s breath hitched.  
“͏̷ **_H̶͞_ ** _o̴̷͟_ S͟ **_T̵͡_ ** **?̢** ”͜͜, there was a garbled voice, and Host made a soft sound. He couldn’t understand it, but it… the voice felt so _familiar_ .  
"̛͘͟ **h** _O͜_ S **t͜** **_!͏_ ** **"̛** , the voice was barely clearer, and the person? was rushing. The few steps to the bed, falling on it, pulling Host close against his chest. During those few moments, those seconds, the shadows whisped and blew away from the figure, giving way to a younger version of Host, with bright golden eyes, and strange black markings on his skin.  
"Hos̷t,͝ ͝o͏h͞ my g͜o̵d̨ ̧>Ho͜st ̧i̵t'͘s͘ y̕ou yoư'r̶e̢ h̛e̢r҉e͜ _͝I'm͞_ ̡he̷r̢e͘ we're ͏her҉e ̢oh ̸my ̵g͘od-"̶, Author’s voice- _Author’s voice_ \- Host didn’t care in the _slightest_ that it sounded a little garbled, a little echoy, a little _weird_ . Because it was _Author_ , it was his _twin_ , and Host sobbed as he clung to the other.

“Auth- Authy-”, Host sobbed, gasping for breath. His wrists hurt. God they hurt. And Author was _so cold_ . Not as cold as a dead body, thankfully, but still concerningly cold. There were thin, near invisible cracks covering Author, black against his skin. His skin looked.. more ash, colorless, but still Author. But he looked so _young_ . All those birthdays they missed… he hadn’t even gone through them. He was still as young as he had been when they were separated.  
"͝Ho̷st̵,̷ ̴Ho̧st̢,̢ I͜'͜m͞ ̕b͠ack͢ wit̴h y͢o͝u.͟."̴, Author sounded so in disbelief, and Host _knew_ he was crying, and Host was trembling.  
“Auth- Host’s sorry-”, Host gasped, wishing he could tell Author more properly, but he was feeling so _bad_ . “Host- I- I hurt myself. I’m bleeding. Pl-ease..”.  
Author immediately pulled back, and he noticed the blood. “Hos̛t̨-”, he gently but hurriedly took Host’s hands, where he could see so much blood, and pulled back the sleeves.

Host looked away, bandages around his eyes already _soaked_ through with blood, sitting heavy on his nose. He could hear Author’s sharp intake of air, and there was the sensation of something cold. Paying attention to what Author was doing, he could see whisps of shadows coming from Author’s hands, almost like his hands were dissolving. It was concerning, but it.. it felt good. The pain numbed, and the blood flow stopped. Shadows were covering his wounds.  
"Is t͜h͠a͞t do͏c͏t͠or͝ still h̵e͏re̛?̡ He c͞an ͠h͏elp. ̧H͠e͜ _has_ t̴o h̢el̶p.͢",Author asked, looking up at Host worriedly. Ever the older brother, no matter he was the smaller one now, the one looking younger.  
“Y-yes, Iplier is still here. He has a little clinic downstairs, uhm, his room-”, Host squeaked when suddenly he was in Author’s arms, and his brother was leaving. Good thing the key was in the lock, so Author could easily unlock the door and leave.

Author was silent as he moved. Host could feel him breathing, could feel his panicked breaths against the top of his head. He felt him moving, his steps big. But Host couldn’t hear a _single thing_ . He could only hear his own shallow breaths.  
“Authy.. I don’t feel so good.”, Host mumbled, head leaning against Author’s chest. His twin’s grip tightened on him a little, and Host _knew_ Author was going faster.  
"͏I͏t'͏l̛l be ̶o͜kay. ͢We'r͜e almost th̛er̨e͝.̵ ̴St̡a̷y a͢w͞ake ͟for̛ ͡me͟, ͡b̕u̶t͞t̴erc͡up."̡, Author mumbled, and Host hummed lightly, weakly holding onto Author. Stay awake. He focused on Author, who kept mumbling for him, giving him something to listen to.

When they reached Iplier’s room, Author halted. Taking a deep breath, he knocked with urgency, but he didn’t wait for an answer before pulling the door open and closed behind himself again. No matter how strong he seemed to pull, the door closed quietly. Almost silently. Host wasn’t focused enough to know that it was bits of the void that stuck to Author, which made the door close silently.  
“What’s..?”, Iplier was sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. It was dark, and cold, and he was _tired_.

"҉͡Y̛ou̷̷ ḩ͜a̕ve̴̢ ͠t͝o̷͘ ̨h̕el̕p͜ ̧H͝os̨͝t҉."̷͢, Author’s voice got darker, in a way, colder. Iplier was immediately startled, thinking it was Dark, but it very clearly _wasn’t_ . Still, when Iplier caught sight of Host nearly limp in _whoever’s_ arms, and the blood coating his sleeves, he was up in an instance.  
͜"͘H̕e̶ ̛cu̷̢t͢͏ ̶h̶i̡͟s ̢͜wri͠͏s͜t̕s͟͞ o̸p̸͟e̵̛n͏.͝ ̷̷ _H͡el͘͞p̨̛ ͞h̵̵i̸͠m̨҉̧_.̡̨"͏̸, Author was _growling_ , and Iplier shuddered.  
“Y-yes- to the clinic, _fast_.”, Iplier replied, not caring to try and figure out who this was. He… only vaguely remembered Host having a brother. And with how panicked this situation was, Iplier didn’t care to figure it out at the moment.

Author got them to the clinic much faster than they could’ve walked as mere human beings. Iplier vaguely noticed rooms and walls fading out and in of blackness, like they were stepping through micro tears of the void. Which was what was happening, most likely.  
The important thing was, that they were in the clinic soon. Author put Host down on a bed, but stayed close to Host, running a hand through his hair and murmuring soft reassurances. Iplier opted to ignore him, to instead clean up Host’s wrists, stitch the worst cuts, and then bandage them. He had to give Host a blood transfusion, because the man was _hemophilic of course_ , before Host could rest. He had passed out way before that already, but Author calmed down as Iplier worked.  
Author was just sitting next to Host’s bed now. He was calm, golden eyes shining with concern, one hand holding Host’s. He was here now, he was back with his darling twin, and he would make sure that _no one_ would make Host want to die again.

“So, uhm.”, Iplier had taken care to clean Host’s face as well, under close scrutiny of Author, and now was ready to address the lost twin.  
"W̧h̶at͘?̡"̕, Author replied, looking at Iplier. His golden eyes send a shiver down Iplier’s spine, remembering. Those two twins, mischievous little devil makers. Like the Jims, but a bit more.. destructive, at times. But oh so sweet and wonderful, still children. Author looked not a day older than when Iplier had last seen him, before learning of… his “disappearance”. While Host looked much older, in so many ways besides physical.  
“Where were you?”, Iplier asked, voice soft, gentle, but he could _see_ Author fuming at the question. The writer stood, black specks leaving his form, golden eyes glowing.  
"̶͘͝T͠h̨͠a̵̛t̷̨ _b̸a̡͡s҉̕t̛a͝r̶̵d̶̶_!͠"҉, Author’s voice was hard to understand, and his human form seemed to almost break apart, but stayed mostly there.

̵̡"̧͞I̴̧̡ ̸w͘į͞ll̷̴ _҉͘k̴̸̨i̛l̨l͞_ t̵͘ha͝t͠ b͞i̛tc͡h͡!̛͜͡"̕͢, Author growled, and Iplier shrunk back, watching in fear. He knew what happened when _Host_ got angry. It was an extremely rare occurrence, but he had seen it happen before. And it was _terrifying_ .  
"̧̡̕H͞o͘͠w͠ f̷͠u̷c̴k͘͢i͘n͢͏g͘͢͞ _͢d̷a̸r͜͝e͏ h͟e̶̡͜?͏_ ̶̵T̵hr̴͏o͢w̶̨ ̸͜me͝͡ ͢a̷̴̧wa̵y̸̷̧ ͝i̕n̕͜t̢͞o ̸̵hiş ̕͢vo̢̡id҉,͞ ̛̕a͝n̷̨͞d͟ ͡͡n͝o̶̶͞t͏̡͘ e̴̛v̸͡e͜͢͡n̛ ̛͜͏t͞͝ell͠ ̢͡an҉y̢̡on̶̵e̡͏̢?͝͠", Iplier could barely understand Author as the man raged, but he believed staying silent was the best thing for him to do at the moment. So he watched Author pacing the room, specks of void floating from him, flaking off of him between the cracks on his skin, leaving the skin beneath dark.

"̵Y̨o͏̕͜u̴͜ ̧ta̕͜͡ke҉ c͠ar̷͡ȩ҉ ̷͞o҉f̷̧̕ Ho̴͝s̛t̵.҉ ͘A̵̢n͞҉͏d͝ ̧͘I̴͠ ̴ _f͟҉u̧̨c͢ki̷̴ng̢ ̶d̡̧a͟r̵̕͠e ̧̕y̨͘ou̧_ ͡͡tǫ͜ ̵͜h͏ų̸̷r̷͏t̵̛ ̨͜͞h̶i͡͞m͝͏ ̡͟͝f͏͠͠u̵̢r͠͠t̢͠͡her.͜͡"̶͢,Author threatened, seeming much taller than Iplier with his presence, even though he was barely taller than the other, having stepped up close to the doctor.   
“I-I’ll take care of him. No hurting.”, Iplier replied, nodding, leaning away from Author. It seemed to satisfy the writer though, and he was soon out of the clinic. Leaving behind the sleeping Host, and a scared Iplier, who wasn’t sure what was going to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zalgo text reads, sorry if it's too hard to read please tell me:  
> "Host?"  
> "Host!"  
> "Host, oh my god, Host, It's you you're here I'm here we're here oh my god-"  
> "Host, Host, I'm back with you."  
> "Host-"  
> "Is that doctor still here? He can help. He has to help."  
> "It'll be okay. We're almost there. Stay awake for me, Buttercup."  
> "You have to help Host."  
> "He cut his wrists open. Help him."  
> "What?"  
> "That bastard!"  
> "I will kill that bitch!"  
> "How fucking dare he? Throw me away into his void, and not even tell anyone?"  
> "You take care of Host. And I fucking dare you to hurt him further."

**Author's Note:**

> And there shall be three, he said, because the opportunity for a chapter break arose


End file.
